Black Reflection
by RandomPants
Summary: Heero, stuck in his own private hell, is saved when a mysterious boy drops into his life...repeatedly. Say hello to Duo, the mysterious "guardian angel". AU, 1x2x1 (and others). DARK.
1. Breaking the Glass

Disclaimer: The boys (or girls) aren't mine. Plot is, though! Yay!

A/N: Warnings: Yaoi, dark stuff, as in suicide, drugs, child abuse and the like, and AU as stated previously. This is NOT meant to be angst, either. Invoke compassion, yes, invoke pity, no. Got it? Great!

SUPER DUPER thanks to my betas, Mistress Koishii and Mlaine! They're spectacular!

_**Black Reflection**_

Chapter 1

Breaking the Glass

Heero was thirteen and about to slit his wrist again when the boy crashed through his skylight.

Well, maybe that's not the place to start. The beginning was probably when J killed Heero's parents, seven years before. That's most likely the best place to start. It will clarify things better.

He was six when his Uncle J took a revolver and blew out his mother and father's brains. At the time, Heero had been in school, silently enjoying the first grade and his bright green finger-painting project. When he came home, he was swarmed by the clicking cameras of the press since he was the only offspring of the double homicide victims; J had played the protective uncle. During the trial, J had been found innocent, and was quietly given custody of his dear nephew, Heero Yuy.

That was when the murderer had started "training" him. Centralized around sensory depravation, Heero was given rice and soup every day, and lived in a cream colored, windowless room with a constant temperature. It did have a skylight, which showed the flickering night sky to him as he lay on his plain white bed, but there was no chance to meet other children. He was alone. J would come in through the locked door and teach him or beat him on random days. Every day, Heero was taught how to kill.

Time went on. Heero Yuy, on paperwork, was home schooled by his Uncle J, as his guardian said he didn't trust the public and private systems that had failed his nephew's parents. In reality, J wasn't even his real uncle, and the man was using his ward as a long-term science experiment.

Eventually, he forgot how to paint. He forgot colors, and music, and laughter. But the shadow of them remained in his soul. J came to trust the boy's expressionless, stony face and left the weapons in Heero's cream and white room for extra practice. And he practiced extra.

Then, Heero had a dream, and realized he didn't know how old he was. He'd asked his uncle, whose emotionless eyes looked him over like the experiment he was.

"I thought we'd gone over this before," J had said. When Heero shook his head, the man nodded. "Very well. You're thirteen. The lesson's over." With that, J walked out the door, locking it behind him.

Heero had stared at the dazzling sun coming through the skylight for a long time after that. Thirteen. His brain translated it into every language he knew so far; Arabic, Italian, Japanese, English, Chinese, German… the list went on. How many thirteen-year-olds were fluent in several languages? What were other children his age like? _Was_ he a child?

Heero had never seen a thirteen year old before.

It came to him that, in all his years, never had he achieved anything. He was barricaded inside his cell, the whispers of blue and red and green touching his soul. Every day, his shirt was white and his pants were khaki. He'd had dreams of something called pizza. And through it all, he'd just survived, not knowing there was another way out than through the eternally locked door.

What was it like to die?

Without a second thought, Heero grabbed one of the daggers and sliced his wrist expertly, to be astonished at the shade of the liquid coming out. Excited, he'd bandaged his wrist and hid it from J.

He'd been doing this for two months now, opening and closing the wound to see the crimson liquid, which his brain called red blood, spill out of his skin. It wasn't beige. It wasn't white. It was…beautiful.

So, every fifth night, Heero rolled up his shirt sleeve, a knife in his right hand. He was too excited to notice the loud _thunk_ on the roof.

But when the skylight crashed down, a screaming boy falling with the shattered glass, Heero noticed. The knife went flying into the wall next to his bed, barely missing the flying figure that landed, moaning and bloody, on his white mattress. Heero cursed in his brain. Miscalculated for speed again. He needed more practice.

"Unnngh…" the boy moaned, and Heero, fascinated by the red now on his sheets, approached. Curious, he noticed the boy's clothes were… black, his brain called it. It was the darkest thing he'd ever seen. His pursed lips were a pale pink, and his hair was a long, chestnut rope, shards of glass embedded within. Heero pulled out a piece, and noticed the gold and red glints in the braid.

Heero was confused. How had someone just dropped onto his roof and crashed through his window? And where was he anyway? Heero had no idea where his room was located. Was this one of J's tests? Was he supposed to kill the black-clad boy? His brain reasoned the best way to find out would be to ask.

"Hey," Heero said, and the boy's body shivered. He pulled out some more glass from the boy's clothing and hair. When he realized there was some glass in the boy's skin, Heero pulled him off the mattress and onto the floor, pulling out the slivers. "Hey. What are you doing here?" The boy only whimpered more, eyes shut tightly.

Heero pulled the boy's shirt off and pulled the glass out from his back, noticing absentmindedly a silver cross hanging around his neck. When the boy began to bleed more and the glass was out, Heero pulled off his own shirt, ripped it, and bandaged the slender kid. After that, he took care of the boy's legs, which had considerably messed-up scars on the ankles. Luckily, the boy's black sneakers had stopped the glass from getting into his feet.

When that was done, he stared at the intruder, who was shivering. Heero frowned. His room was at a constant 68 degrees Fahrenheit, so it could be the temperature. He pulled the sheets off the bed, rolled them up, and placed them in the garbage can. After putting new sheets on the mattress, he dropped the boy on the bed unceremoniously and covered him with the blankets. Heero, in all honesty, had no idea what to do now, so he retrieved his dagger from the wall and put it back on the weapons shelf, staring at the shivering figure.

What was he supposed to do now? Heero frowned. J wouldn't be back tomorrow (it was one of the reasons he always chose this night to slit his wrist), so it looked like the boy would be staying the night, and possibly the next day. He was too confused to think straight. A boy had crashed through his skylight, and was now shivering in his bed.

Being practical, Heero grabbed a blanket and curled up on the floor, asleep within seconds.

He woke up to the sound of angry muttering.

"…window breaking under my feet…stupid shitty caulking nowadays. Couldn't hold a cat," the voice grumbled, and Heero sat up to see the boy shaking his fist at the gaping hole in his ceiling. It was still night, and Heero was obscured by the foot of the bed.

"Hey," Heero said, and the shadowed boy jumped out of the bed in surprise.

"Holy shit, man, don't scare me like that," the boy began, but trailed off, his voice growing softer and softer. Eventually, he managed to clear his throat. "Eh…hiya. I just…er…"

"You fell through my window," Heero stated clearly and coolly, and rose from the floor, folding the blanket at the same time. "Why are you here?" The boy looked around uncomfortably, and his gaze soon latched onto the weapons rack along the wall.

"Whoa…into weapons, eh," the boy chuckled, looking over at Heero as he approached the case. "Pretty impressive. I haven't seen a knife this sexy in years." Heero looked at the boy, confused. What did sexy mean? It was obviously some sort of adjective, and assumably a flattering one… "Zoning out? Alrighty then! I'm one of the best at that." The boy stared at the wall. Heero was hopelessly confused. What was 'Zoning out'?

"Who are you," Heero asked, and the boy instantly snapped out of his catatonic state to smile at him.

"Call me Duo! I run, I hide, but I never lie," the boy said, and made to bow, but winced. "Eheheh…I'm in pain, too."

"That seems like a stupid thing to me, to not lie," Heero said. "Stupid, and dangerous."

"Hey, man, if you've got some way to shove me out, go ahead," Duo snapped. "I don't need to sit here and listen to this shit."

"Yes you do. You can't get back up to the window injured, and the door doesn't open," Heero stated. The boy's shadowed eyes flicked over to the handleless entrance in the wall. "You're trapped in here, just like me." The boy slumped back onto the bed, apparently from the pain of his wounds.

"Thanks for bandaging me," Duo said, and his hand crept up to the silver cross around his neck. "Sorry I broke your window."

"It's better that way," Heero said, and walked towards the bathroom. He felt like taking a shower.

"Hey, wait! You're just gonna leave me in here," the boy asked, and Heero turned towards the confusing entity lounging on his bed.

"You want to take a shower with me?" Heero asked, perplexed by the boy. Why would anyone want to take a shower with him? The braided boy blushed.

"You're nasty," he grumbled. "No, I just don't want to get killed when your parents come in or something. I'm not exactly looking forward to death, ya know? Not yet, at least." Heero tilted his head to the side.

"Duo, you're weird," he said, and after grabbing some clothes walked into his bathroom and took his shower. When he returned, the boy was climbing back into his ripped black pants. "Want a new pair of pants?"

"Gaaah," Duo yelled in surprise, and fell onto the floor, barely catching himself. "What the hell is your problem? Scaring little kids like that…" the boy tilted his head to the side, giving Heero an appraising look. "How old are you, anyway? What's your name?"

"Heero. I'm 13," he replied, and Duo grinned.

"I'm 13 too! Cool," he yelled, obviously delighted, and Heero just stared at the other boy's upraised hand, just standing in the air for no reason he could think of. "Umm…not a high-five kind of guy?"

"High five? What's that," Heero asked, and Duo's mouth dropped open.

"You have been in this room waaay too long," he said, and put on his pants. "A high five's when you slap hands with someone. It's like a physical kind of hooray, I guess." Duo noticed his blank look on the word 'hooray'. "Happy moment?" Still nothing. "Alright, I was excited, right?" Heero nodded. "Well, excited is kind of like happy. Happy's when you're…pleased with something?" Duo scratched his head.

"I think I get it," Heero finally said. He watched the bandaged boy appraise his tattered black shirt. "I could give you a shirt." Duo shook his head.

"Nah. I'll be good," Duo shrugged. "So, what's up with the weapons?"

"What about them? I use them," Heero asked, confused. Was there something strange about having an assortment of firearms and knives, along with a few swords, in a bedroom? He voiced this opinion, and Duo shook his head again.

"You are one twisted kind of kinky," he said, drawing out the words that were foreign to Heero. "No, that's not normal. It's kind of illegal for you to have guns and shit at our age."

"I've had them for a while, though," Heero shrugged, and grabbed his favorite sword. Steel with a simple leather hilt, it had perfect balance, and he sharpened it weekly. "What knife did you want? The one you called… sexy, was it?" Duo was blushing again, and looked up at the fading stars to avoid discussion of his reaction.

"Ermm, yeah," Duo finally said, and moved towards the case. Immediately, he pulled out one of Heero's favorite knives. It was curved a bit, but the hilt continued opposite the arc, making a wave effect. Duo flicked it expertly in his hand. "It's really nice." Heero nodded.

"Take it when you leave, then," he shrugged. "I've got plenty. Actually, you should probably take the whole set." Heero reached in and pulled three identical knives from a drawer, along with four sheathes. Duo gaped at him.

"Wow! Remind me to break your window more often," he yelled, and shocked Heero by flinging his arms around the human experiment. "This is called a hug! It's what you do when you're really, really happy and want to thank someone when you don't have anything for them!" Duo was jumping around the room with him, laughing, and something snapped inside Heero. The braided boy didn't notice.

"I'm gonna take you to the ocean some time, and we'll go swimming, and then we can go use the knives," Duo was saying, jumping around laughing, until his silver cross whacked Heero in the nose. "Oh! Sorry." He started giggling, and pulled it off, grinning. "Here! I can give you my cross!" Heero eyed it doubtfully.

"What is it," he asked. "What's the ocean like? What are we going to use the knives on, anyway?" Duo shrugged, bouncing on Heero's bed. Apparently, he healed ridiculously fast.

"My cross? I got it from Sister Helen before she died. The ocean's really, really big. You really haven't left this room, have you? It's lots of water, and it comes in big waves onto a beach, which is lots of sand by the water. I don't know what we can use the knives on, but it'd be fun," Duo grinned. "Why don't you get out of here with me? If I can make it out bandaged and all that, you sure as hell can." Heero blinked at the excited boy.

"I…I don't know," he finally said. Heero suddenly frowned. "Why'd you fall through my skylight, anyway? What were you doing on the roof?"

"Running. So, wanna leave with me?" Duo asked, and for the first time, Heero noticed his eyes were a stunning violet- another color he'd never glimpsed before.

"The skylight's twenty feet up," Heero stated. "You can't get out." Duo smirked.

"Well, aren't you a pessimist. Wanna come, or no," he asked, and stopped bouncing by pulling into a tuck mid-air. Heero shook his head, brown hair curtaining his eyes.

"I can't. J would kill me. And you," he said, and sat back on the floor, Duo's cross clutched in his hand.

They were silent, staring through the glassless window to unreachable stars.

"I'll get you out," Duo finally said. "Seems pretty sucky to be stuck in a room all the time, with weapons for company." Heero didn't look over at the other boy, who yawned. "Go to sleep. You'll be out in a week, I guarantee it!" Silence ensued again.

"…Duo?" Heero's voice was almost quivering. It sounded like he was cold.

"Huh? Need something…Oh, shit, I'm still taking over your bed! Sorry," his voice came over, and the young figure in torn and frayed black clothing climbed off the bed, scratching his head. "It's your room, after all. Sorry, Heero." Heero sat motionless on the floor, blue eyes glazed as he stared through the hole in his ceiling.

"Are you an angel," he finally asked. It was one of the few things he remembered clearly from his life before the room. His mother had constantly spoken of beautiful creatures that fell from heaven to help those in need. Duo shook his head.

"Nah. Death, maybe, but not an angel," he said, and paused, eyes crinkled. "Are…are you?" Heero shook his head, and Duo shrugged, feeling foolish. "Well, get in the bed already, or I'm going to take over again." Heero frowned. That made no sense.

"It's big enough for two. You get one side, I get the other," Heero stated, and still fully-dressed climbed into one side of the bed.

"Why the hell are you so nice? You got plenty of reasons to just kill me," Duo asked, sliding into the other side. Heero's eyes were still intent on the night sky.

"I don't know what nice means. I'm polite, and logical," he stated, a verbal shrug-off. "If those two make 'nice', I guess I am." For the first time, Heero noticed how warm the bed was with someone else in it. Instinctively, he moved towards the source of the heat. His room was always less than tepid, including the bed.

"Well okay then," Duo murmured cheerily, and put his arms around the other boy. "You all right?"

"I'm warm," Heero stated, scooting closer to Duo.

"Warm's always good," Duo said, curling as close as possible with a yawn. "This is comfy. I've been sleeping on cots and concrete too long…" Heero didn't know what either of those were, and just remained silent, falling asleep with the stars in his eyes.

When he woke up, his arms were around a pillow, a rapidly cut smiley face beaming at him through the covers. Heero frowned, and looked around. Had it been a dream?

No, the skylight was broken, and, of all things, knife holes graced the wall closest to the opening. Clearly, the braided boy had used them to climb the vertical plane. There were occasional shards of glass glinting on the floor, and the weapons case looked ransacked, although only the four knives Heero had given freely were missing. Heero's sword was leaning against the wall, and the two ice picks Duo had used still hung on the ceiling.

And most importantly, Duo's silver cross hung around Heero's neck.

For most of the day, Heero lay in bed, staring up at the blue sky. For the first time in so long, he could hear birds up above, cooing. He could listen to the windy sky whistle past the rooftop. And, for the first time in seven years, he watched the light blue of morning fade to black without the glare of glass between them.

The arrival of the stars was interrupted when J entered the room, frowning.

"What happened," he asked, as close to yelling as Heero's Uncle ever got.

"A boy fell through my skylight," Heero stated, still in bed. J slapped him hard across the face, and as usual Heero took it without a sound. This seemed to make J even angrier, and he pulled the boy out of the bed, mechanical eyes shining malevolently.

That was possibly the worst beating he'd ever had, leaving him with broken ribs, bruises, and blood oozing down his body. But it could also have been the best, as the police took just that moment to barge in through the unlocked door after an anonymous tip.

As soon as J saw the guns aimed at him, he gave up. He went off without resisting arrest, just shooting one venomous glare at each and every officer. When J was officially "neutralized", the cops finally looked over at Heero. The first officer to say anything spoke one word.

"Shit."

"God, we gotta get him to a hospital, ASAP," another said, but paramedics soon flowed into the room, whirling over Heero's multiple injuries.

By now, of course, Heero was almost comatose, from both the injuries and being flung into a world of blue and red, black guns and gold badges. As the paramedics pulled him onto a stretcher, he didn't make a sound. It was only after he'd been taken out of the penthouse elevator, which traveled from Floor 32 and down to the ground floor, and wheeled out to the busy city streets swarmed with reporters behind yellow police tape that he made a noise.

"Duo," he muttered, catching the glint of chestnut and black out of the corner of his eye as hefell unconscious.

x...x

My first post ever! If I'm not formatting correctly or something, please tell me! And since I've already finished Ch. 2, I'll be putting it up as soon as I have the time. Thanks for reading!

Lu


	2. An Esoteric Mirror

Warnings: Yaoi, suicide attempts, drugs, child abuse, and AU. Oh! Profanity, too.

And yet again, a fond thank you to my magical betas, Mlaine and Mistress Koishii! Also a thank you to my brother, the All-Knowing Car God, for helping me find Duo's baby.

Also, as sad as it makes me to say this, Ch. 3 will be taking quite a bit longer, since I'm only 'bout 3/4 of the way finished and I'll be self-betaing. I NEVER expected to get that many reviews first chapter, either! (Reader responses at the bottom.)

**Black Reflection**

Chapter 2

An Esoteric Mirror

Heero was seventeen and sitting in _Fate_, swigging his shots and just waiting to be thrown out into the snowy city streets like every night.

The rhythm of the club washed over him, shaking the floor with a melodic pounding. Like usual, he sat alone at his table, watching his friends dance as Wufei worked. The music cut him again with a sharp change, and he barely held back a grimace. He didn't come to this club for the music, that was certain.

It had been four years, now. Four years since he'd been freed of the Room, and still he remained broken. And Heero hated being broken. As long as he could remember, his well-being had depended upon his own fortitude, and now he was shattered on the floor, useless and normally too high to care that he had nothing left.

Once more, he glared at the dancing figures of Trowa and Quatre. They moved effortlessly together, following the beat in sync, eyes locked onto each other. It almost made him sick, although whether from envy or bitterness he neither knew nor cared. Of course, they were his best friends-not to mention his _only_ friends, save Wufei. And Duo.

Heero's hand immediately shot up to the silver cross that he wore religiously. The questions flooded into his head, as always. Had he been real? Was he really an angel? Where was he? Did he care? Had he forgotten him? Why had he been on the roof? He cut himself off with another shot of the cheap yet strong liquid. Nowadays, he didn't even bother to glance down and gage the hue.

As soon as Wufei's last deal was done, he fell into the chair facing Heero. His sleek black hair was pulled back tight, and the loose white pants he wore still didn't serve to cover much. Then again, Heero's own outfit wasn't exactly modest, consisting of blue jeans and a tight black shirt.

"Yuy," Wufei's voice rang out, and Heero's hazy blue eyes met Wufei's black. "You're holding your cross." He looked as if he were expecting a response. Heero didn't give him one. Instead, he pulled out his emaciated wallet.

"How much tonight," Heero asked, and disgust plainly twitched the other boy's face. It only lasted for a moment, but his friend had obviously seen it.

"I'm not dealing to you, Yuy," Wufei said coldly. "I'm tired of seeing you thrown out every night, and especially knowing I'm not making money off it. Not to mention knowing _you're_ running out of money because of it." Heero glared at him.

"Hypocrite," he muttered, and stuffed his wallet back into his pocket.

"Just clean up," Wufei grumbled, and his eyes turned to the dancing couple. "For all of us, and yourself." Heero made an amused yet upset noise in his throat, and Wufei's eyes snapped back to the teenager. "You think it's funny? You're going to end up dying on the street, high and shot through the back by someone you couldn't pay. I've seen it before."

"Because you've done the shooting," Heero snapped, yet kept his voice cold and monotone at the same time. The music shifted to a darker tune, and the two stopped dancing, hands clasped tightly. That same queasy feeling began to surface.

"I don't see how you can wear a cross, and be you," Wufei muttered, looking at the silver pendant above Heero's shirt. "Why do you wear it, anyway? You're the least hopeful person I've ever met."

"The angel gave it to him," another voice said quietly, and Wufei looked up to see Trowa and Quatre taking the two remaining chairs. Wufei shrugged as Heero scowled at the taller boy. He was the only person who knew about Duo, and it was solely because they shared an apartment.

The two had both been emancipated at sixteen, and had decided to live together, since they'd been sharing a room in the foster home anyway. It was only after the fifth nightmare Trowa had asked, and it was after the sixth Heero had explained.

"It always starts with Duo," Heero had muttered into the muted darkness of their one-bedroom apartment. "He was an angel. He took me out of the Room, and away from J. And then, he left." Trowa had nodded.

"What happens in the nightmares," he'd asked, emerald eyes shining in the distance.

"He comes, but only I go," Heero stated. It was the simplest way to phrase the dreams that followed him. It always began with Duo's fall through the window, and after that Duo would take him up through the roof, but J would catch them. Duo would die, and Heero would run from the scene, Duo's bloody cross thumping against his crisp white shirt.

Heero hadn't worn a white shirt or khaki pants since getting out of the Room.

"…an angel," Wufei asked, incredulous. Trowa nodded, and Heero's glare intensified. Wufei's black eyes switched over to Heero's dark, clouded blue. "You really think an angel gave you that cross? How high _were_ you?"

"Wufei! Shut up, you weren't there," Quatre snapped, his normally pleasant expression suddenly fiercely angry.

"And you were," Wufei asked coldly. Quatre just glared back at him, but the drug dealer was too busy posing the same question to Trowa, who shrugged. The taller boy was a man of few words, but those he did say tended to speak volumes. "Heero, just think about it for a minute. You really think an angel would waste its time with you?"

"Shut up," Heero snapped, this time loud. Wufei smirked, eyes glinting triumphantly.

"You're going to kill yourself, aren't you? You're going to die, believing something you know never happened," Wufei said, almost yelling, and Heero stood up. Wufei followed suit, and before the Chinese boy could do anything else, Heero slammed his fist into Wufei's jaw. With wide black eyes, the boy dropped to the floor with a thud.

Quatre and Trowa sighed disapprovingly, and the bouncer grabbed Heero's shirt.

"Don't ever come back here, kid," the bouncer yelled, two-foot-thick arms shoving Heero out the back door and slamming it shut.

He landed in the snowy alley with a small grunt, mouth clenched shut. He'd taken worse punishment from even Quatre. The snow rose into the air, puffing around his face and settling in his hair like stardust. For once, Heero regretted his action. Not because he'd hit Wufei, of course, but because it was ten degrees out and he was wearing a short-sleeved black shirt, which was now soaked from the snow.

He brushed himself off silently and stood, barely noticing the blood on his chin from the rough concrete beneath the white blanket of winter. Firm steps through the snow led him to the deserted street beyond. Heero wasn't surprised; it was expected for the world to be asleep on a snowy Saturday night at three AM.

His gaze turned upwards, gazing at the gray clouds, and he barely noticed the flakes of ice landing serenely on his dark eyelashes.

He barely noticed the car, too.

One extended high-pitched honk was all the warning Heero had, and he immediately jumped back to where the curb used to be. The clearly used black vehicle swerved until it was diagonal in the street. Heero couldn't help but be impressed. Anyone but a very skilled driver would have either hit him, or spun, possibly flipping the car.

The driver jumped out of the car, and Heero's heart stopped.

It was him. Frantic violet eyes, long brown braid, entirely black outfit…It was him.

Unnoticed heavy metal poured out of the black car's stereo as the angel slid toward Heero.

"FUCK, man! You okay," he asked, looking both concerned and hectic at the same time. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to melt. "I know you…I-KNIFE BOY! Heero! Shit, how you been? Sorry I almost ran you over. You're half covered in snow, so…damn! It's great to see you're okay. Are you okay? I'm so sorry, man." Heero just stared at the angel.

Everything sunk in. Duo was alive, he was real, and he was standing in front of him. Sure, the boy had almost run him over, but…it was _Duo_.

Without another thought, Heero flung his arms around the other boy, holding on for dear life. The only thing that had kept him alive, through all the orphanages and times discarded by families, through all the looks his scars got in gym class and the worried glances from his teachers, was clutched in his arms.

"Duo," he whispered, and the other boy finally hugged him back, albeit tentatively.

"Yeah, it's me," Duo sighed, and finally hugged back tighter. "You alright? I really didn't mean to almost run you over." Heero smiled a little.

"Of course," he said, the snow still falling down on them.

"Need a ride somewhere," Duo finally asked, pulling away with a grin. "I mean, it's the least I can do for almost killing you." Heero shook his head.

"I need to go home," he muttered, and Duo frowned.

"And why can't I drive you there…? Whatever, man," he shrugged, black shirt slowly becoming covered with the snow. "So, how's life been treating you? Shitty like me, or just as bad as the next guy?" Heero shrugged, the cold seeping into his bones again.

"Horrible. You," Heero asked, crossing his arms and rubbing them casually. Duo shook his head, still grinning as always.

"Come on, just let me drive you. You'll freeze your ass off out here," the violet-eyed boy said, and ushered Heero to the old black car. "Meet my baby! It's a lovely 1987 Buick Grand National. Or, in other words, it's an ugly old car that still kicks ass and can move like hell." Duo chuckled, opening the passenger door for the mildly shivering Heero to sit down. The interior was almost disgustingly eighties, and very well-loved, the tangy scent of a black car freshener wafting throughout. Heero couldn't help but notice the miniature scythe also hanging from the rear-view mirror.

"Thank you," Heero finally said when the braided boy slid into the driver's seat, grinning in a way that made him almost uncomfortable. The music was loud, but somehow fit the atmosphere so well it didn't bother the blue-eyed boy.

"No sweat! So, tell me where you wanna go," Duo said, and slammed his door shut. The car turned on relatively normal, but Heero had a lurking suspicion this was going to be one hell of a ride. He quickly gave the directions to the small apartment he shared with Trowa, and that grin returned. "Buckle up." Heero complied quickly.

Duo backed up the car onto the road (its front wheels had been on the sidewalk), and it moved forward at a regular pace. But, after five seconds, the turbo kicked in and the car was plowing through the snowy streets at ninety-five miles an hour without any difficulty. Heero looked over at the driver, who was leaning back, grinning and driving with one hand.

"This…is safe," Heero yelled over the music and engine, and Duo grinned, turning the corner with a pull of the emergency break and a slide across the wet ground.

"Haven't died yet!" Heero frowned. That wasn't very reassuring.

In far too short a time, they arrived at the small building with three apartments in it. Then again, maybe it was too long. Heero was relieved to get out of the car, even though it had been insanely fun. Emphasis on insane, of course. Duo was laughing when he stepped out, and stopped to pat the top of his car affectionately.

And then, they stood staring at each other again. What was there to say? To do?

Still the snow fell, yet whenever Duo was around…there was no temperature, only the warmth of his presence. Heero frowned. He didn't like feeling so different just because one person showed up again. Like usual, he just shrugged it off in his mind, cataloguing that with the rest of the shit in his life.

"Thank you," Heero said again. Duo just smiled.

"No problem, man," he shrugged, stretching his back a little. Then, he pulled out a familiar, curvy knife, almost looking embarrassed. "I…ah, I still have your knives, so…" Without a word, Heero pulled the cross out from under his shirt and over his head. When he tried to give the silver chain to the braided boy shook his head. "Nah, keep it. I got a spare, anyway, and it was a present. I just…it was good to see you're alive." He scratched his head for a moment.

"You've saved me twice now," Heero stated. "I don't like that. I need to give you something back." Duo laughed.

"What, saving my life when I fell through your skylight and thousand dollar knives don't count," he asked, almost incredulous. "Damn it, Heero, I sold one of those knives for _fifteen hundred dollars_. That money saved my life. I'd say we're even." Heero nodded, and the silence came again, the black of Duo's car turning to a silent gray.

"My life's shit," Heero said finally, and Duo nodded. "It's been shit since I was born, and it always will be. I've attempted suicide twice, and each time I failed because my roommate came home early for no reason. The first time was just overdosing, and the second was slitting my wrists. I get drugs from my best friends, and I don't even bother to go to school anymore." His clear, piercing blue eyes looked straight at the angel. "It was only twice because of you."

Duo crossed the distance between them, violet eyes intense. "My life's shit too. I've lived on the streets since I was born, and everyone I love dies. I'm always running," Duo muttered, and his mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Fun to be so fucking twisted you don't even notice it, huh?" Heero smirked.

"Come in. I'll get you some…whatever," he said, and with a chuckle Duo followed him into the skinny brick building. The run-down green and plastic stairway led up to the third floor, where Heero and Trowa's meager apartment lay. He easily unlocked the door and stepped in.

The apartment was almost pessimistic in its sparse furnishings. There was a dusty TV, a couch, a coffee table, and a kitchen. In fact, the only non-dusty thing was the microwave and refrigerator. Heero intentionally stayed outside as much as possible. The carpet was an old brown color clearly left from the original 70's décor, and the walls were a pale green nearly reminiscent of a hospital.

Heero flicked the light switch on, and moved towards the fridge. "What do you want?" Duo walked in, and plopped down on the couch, looking down through the shuttered window at the snow below. He sighed.

"I really want something disgustingly fizzy and sweet," Duo said. Smirking, Heero threw him whatever Quatre always drank when he came over. It was in a can, so he figured it couldn't be too illegal. Duo opened it, and swigged. "You ever wonder why the hell we keep going?"

"No," Heero said, grabbing a random can and sitting next to Duo.

"Well, I do," Duo grumbled, and grimaced. "This stuff's nasty. What the hell is it?" Heero shrugged.

"No idea. Trowa's boyfriend stocks our fridge," Heero said, and Duo's eyebrows shot up as he barely caught himself from choking. "What? The fact my roommate's gay shocks you?" Duo chuckled.

"Nah, I just can't imagine you with a gay man's food supply," Duo said, and shrugged. "So, what's your preference?" Heero shrugged.

"Don't know," he stated, and downed his drink. It burned, but he shook his head sharply and the acrid taste left. "I'm going to read the cans from now on." Again, the other boy laughed.

"…So, aside from suicide attempts and drugs, what else do you do," Duo asked, and Heero shrugged.

"I hack. One of my Room talents," Heero said. "You?" The other boy shrugged.

"I'm a thief," he said simply. "Con man, pickpocket…whatever pays that day. I live alone…well, 'cept Scythe" Heero's eyes asked the question. "My car, man! Come on! We're famous on the street racing circuit." Duo frowned. "Or, we were a few years ago. I kind of gave that up when I got kicked out of my old place." Heero nodded.

"It explains your driving," he said, and Duo gave him a playful punch.

"Shut up. I doubt you could do any better, Mr. Walking Around in Short Sleeves in Winter," Duo grumbled, and suddenly his violet eyes widened, usual cheery face turning to an expression of shock. Heero gave him a confused look.

"What?" Duo's panic quickly dissipated with a half-chuckle, half-sigh.

"Well, I guess that explains some shit," Duo grumbled to himself, and it seemed to Heero the other boy had completely forgotten his presence. Finally, he looked back up, smiling regretfully. "Sorry, babe. I'm gonna go now." Duo stood, and Heero panicked.

He was leaving again. He was leaving again, and Heero would be alone again. What could he say? What could he do? He didn't want to be alone again…

"Don't go," Heero said, and Duo turned with a sigh, violet eyes cold.

"You don't get it, do you? You're life's just as shitty as mine, but you're still…_innocent_, damn it! How the…" he sighed, and shook his head. "Damn."

He suddenly strode forward, and pulled Heero to his feet. Normally, he would have punched whoever did that, but there was the damned eternal Duo Exception. Without a moment's hesitation, the braided boy planted his lips on Heero's, whose eyes shot open. It lasted for only an instant, and then the black-clad boy backed away, looking both giddy and embarrassed.

"Eh…I'll see you around," Duo said, backing towards the door as a blush crept up onto his cheeks. "Take my advice, and clean up. I don't wanna lose another…friend." He opened the doorknob behind him. "So…uh…bye, Heero." He slipped out the door, and the utterly shocked Heero just stared at where Duo had been standing. He heard the engine, and the rough sound of snow ripped apart by tires as Duo drove off with reckless abandon.

The last psychiatrist had claimed Heero had extreme reactions to extreme stimuli because of his seven years of sensory depravation in the Room. The last doctor had said Heero had a bizarre blood cell count, giving him momentary hypoglycemia, which made him faint at seemingly random times. That doctor had been quickly replaced by another, who'd said he was an incurable case.

Then, the family had kicked him out, and Heero had been left to the government, who didn't spend their money on little orphan experiments.

So, in other words, Trowa found Heero unconscious on the floor, eyes rolled into the top of his head, for no reason.

**x...x**

I'd just like to point out this chapter's intentionally choppy, since Heero's half (or 7/9) drunk.

READER RESPONSES:

cool youkai: Like I said, the next chapter will be taking a lot longer (I'd estimate a week and a half), but thank you very much for reviewing! I'm so glad to know you like it!

**camillian:** Hope this chapteranswered some questions. I'm so glad I got a bit of time topost again.

**GundamPilot03**: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Lost-Remembrance/Red Tail**: Actually, I'm sorry if it's dissapointing but this isn't an angel fic. Duo just seems to pop up when Heero needs someone most. And Ch. 1 was actually the prologue before I realized this site doesn't do prologues. Thank you very much for reviewing!

**prussianblue1x2**: Thank you very much! Actually it isn't my first story, but the first time I've put anything I write on the internet. I just realized fanfiction had a name a few months ago, and I was quickly addicted. Thanks for reviewing!

**ahanchan**: Thank you! I'm sorry to say I'll be updating slower now, though. I just get a little nit-picky and it takes a bit longer.

**Keefy**: Thanks so much! And it's gonna get a lot more interesting. I actually thought Ch. 1 was kind of boring...

**ms trick**: Thank you very much! And rest assured, I'll keep writing 'till I'm dead.

**Dark Kaiser Ken-Wolf**: Thank you very much! I hope you like this chapter too.


	3. Author's note sorry

Before you get excited, be aware: Purely Author's Note. Sorry.

Dear Reader,

I regret to inform you that Black Reflection has henceforth been moved to my other account, **Luchia13**.Further details concerning why I did this in the first place and the fate of Black Reflectiom may be found on the bottom section of chapter 1. The unchanged version of chapter 2 will remail on this account, should you like it better, although further updates will be on Luchia13.

I apologise for any confusion or discontent this may cause you. I truly appreciated all comments and reviews, and that you would take the time to read my humble story.

Thank you again,

Luchia

(If you really need to rant at me, I may be emailed at either luchia9293 at yahoo dot com, or luchia9293 at hotmail dot com.)


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